


Dear Santa

by fourtseven



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Christmas, F/F, cat is in dc, santa, supercat, younger carter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 02:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13204227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourtseven/pseuds/fourtseven
Summary: A young Carter writes a letter to Santa asking for a very important gift.





	Dear Santa

**Author's Note:**

> It's a few days after Christmas, but here's a Christmas supercat story. Sorry about that. It took me longer than I thought to write.
> 
> Also, I reviewed the story, but it is very likely that I missed some mistakes. After all, it's my own writing and my eyeballs could very well have glossed over any. Please, forgive them. :)

Carter inspected the letter scrawled on two sheets of construction paper, one red and one green, and made sure all his words were perfect. He didn’t want Santa to get confused and bring him the wrong gift. After all, this letter was the most important letter to Santa he had  _ ever _ written and there was no room for error.

Of course, spelling all of his words right only mattered if the letter actually reached Santa in time. It was already December 21st, a super last-minute time to mail a letter to anyone, let alone Mr. Claus, and his mom had warned him that it might be too late, but Carter still insisted on writing. He wasn’t asking for a toy, so Santa didn’t need to make or buy anything. He just had a small, but super-important request that Santa needed to see right away.

His eyes scanned all the words, and satisfied that all his letters were in the right order, Carter grabbed his mom’s fancy pen. He signed his name at the bottom with quick, but careful strokes because if you held down the tip too long — his mom called it a nub or a nib — ink spilled out and made big splotches on the paper. Splotches caused the words to look messy, and Carter did not want that. That happened once to his mom on some important papers, and she said a whole lot of naughty words that made his eyes widen.

The pen was one of those old-timey types that his mom never let him play with because she said it was for business. Today was special, though, because writing a letter to Santa  _ was  _ business — very important business.

As soon as he crossed the last ‘T’ in his name, Carter blew on the ink to help it dry. Then, he folded the construction paper into thirds and stuffed the letter into a carefully addressed red envelope decorated with white snowflakes. He left the flap unsealed because the glue tasted yucky. His mom would do that before she mailed it.

“Are you finished, yet?”

Carter gasped and whirled around, holding the letter to his chest. His mom stood just inside the bedroom and smiled, but her smile didn’t make her eyes all crinkly like it used to. He sighed. He knew she felt sad, but she always tried to hide it.

“Yep!” He hugged the letter closer and hoped Santa would help fix her smile. “All done!”

 

* * *

 

Cat sipped a glass of hot buttered rum, a special holiday treat, and collapsed into her favorite wingback chair. A small fire blazed in the fireplace, casting a soft halo of light  around the darkened living room. The fire did little to combat the chill in the air, but she enjoyed watching the flames dance.

Light from the fire flickered over the presents, all wrapped and placed under the Christmas tree that twinkled with lights of its own, two stockings labeled ‘Catherine’ and ‘Carter’ filled to the brim with knick-knacks and new underwear, and a plate with a single, half-eaten cookie left on it. An empty glass of milk sat next to the plate.

Santa had come and gone by eleven, leaving little traces of his presence around the room for Carter to find in the morning. Cat had her feet tucked beneath her as she enjoyed her holiday nightcap, but she worried that Carter would be disappointed when he woke up and discovered that Santa hadn’t brought him what he truly wanted.

There would be no Kara under the tree, waiting to greet him after he woke up. Cat sighed as she recalled the words he wrote to Santa.  _ Kara makes my mom smile so her eyes twinkle like stars. Can you bring her here? _

Cat wished for that, too. She wanted to grab her own construction paper, decorate it with snowflakes and reindeer, and plead with Santa to bring Kara to her, but they were in Washington D.C., now, not National City.

On the coffee table, Cat’s phone buzzed and blinked to life with a notification. She was tempted to ignore it, but the phone buzzed again and her heart mocked her by skipping a beat. What if it was Kara…

Leaning forward, Cat set her drink aside and grabbed the phone, nearly dropping it in her haste to see who messaged her. A noise of disgust escaped as her foolish heart sank. There were two texts, undoubtedly laden with insults, from her mother.

Cat swiped the messages away without reading them and opened her contact list. Kara’s name called to her like a beacon. Perhaps she should call to wish her a ‘Merry Christmas’ and an early ‘Happy New Year’. She yearned to hear Kara’s voice, but Cat hesitated.

If she called, a cascade of long-overdue declarations of love would pour out uninhibited, and heartache would undoubtedly follow on its tail. While every word would be sincere, ultimately, they would fix nothing. Cat still lived in Washington, Kara still lived in National City, and there was still more than two thousand miles between them. Words would change nothing, so she kept her feelings sealed and locked away because once unleashed, Cat knew she’d never be able to wrestle them back into their neat, little box.

The truth was: Cat was a coward. She often talked about bravery and chasing dreams, but she disregarded her own advice like frivolous pieces of trash. She covered her face with her hands, letting her phone drop, and groaned. She kicked her legs in a mini-tantrum as she lamented her cowardice.

The doorbell rang, interrupting her outburst. Cat dragged herself from the chair and walked quietly to the door. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she grabbed an aluminum bat she kept in the foyer. Who the hell would ring her doorbell at this hour? It was nearly midnight, and despite having lived here close to a year, Cat hadn’t made friends beyond Olivia.

Cat looked through the small peephole. Her pounding heart stopped completely. On the other side of the door, Kara stood biting her lip and fiddling with the straps of a backpack. Cat dropped the bat — it clanged against the floor and rolled away. She scrambled to unlock the door.

“Kara! What —”

“Hi. Merry Christmas!” Kara looked beautiful, flushed with rosy lips and cheeks, and wind-blown hair. She gazed past her into the living room, then brought her eyes back to Cat and smiled. “Are you going to let me in?”

Cat opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for words. Silently, she nodded and stepped aside. As she passed, Kara’s arm brushed against her chest in a whisper of a touch. Goosebumps erupted on every inch of Cat’s body, but she attributed it to the cold blast of air that followed in Kara’s wake. Definitely not the incidental, yet arousing, touch.

Shutting the door behind her, she watched Kara walk further into her home and take in her surroundings. Cat glanced around, trying to see her new home through her guest’s eyes. Small pictures, mostly of her and Carter, decorated various accent tables with flowers interspersed among them long with an unpaid bill or two. A few misplaced toys littered the carpet near the couch where a cashmere throw draped over the back. Children’s books mixed with magazines covered the coffee table. Discarded shoes lay by the door. Her house looked lived in. Homey.

“What are these?” Kara asked as she walked over to a set of framed newspaper clippings displayed prominently along the walls. She inspected them closely. Heat infused Cat’s face. “You framed my articles?”

“Yes. The…” Cat was loathe to admit how she scoured every edition of the Tribune looking for Kara’s bylines, or how every time she read one, a curious mix of pride, affection, and regret suffused her. She waved her hand in the air as though waving away the significance of having Kara’s articles nailed to her wall. “Only the palatable ones.”

Kara was silent for a few moments. She traced her fingers along the frame of her latest featured article, an exposé on illegal chemical dumping. Kara turned and looked at her with a knowing, tender smile. Cat rubbed her stomach to calm the fluttering.

“I must have quite a few of those, then,” Kara whispered.

Silence filled the space between them. Cat didn’t know how to fill it. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, sentiments she wanted to express, but she was afraid if she opened her mouth, all those messy feelings she kept locked away would escape.

“I —” Kara ran a hand through her hair. “Oh, Rao. Cat, I should have called. ‘Cause this…” She blew out a breath. “This is incredibly awkward.”

“Yes, it is.” Cat massaged her forehead. Different emotions battled for dominance within her. She was excited, nervous, and overwhelmed by love. “But, I’m glad you’re here. When I went home that last time… We left so many things unsaid. Things I—” She sighed. “Things I’ve been too afraid to say.”

Kara slipped the backpack off her shoulders and walked closer until she could feeling the body heat radiating between them. Cat had dreamed of this, of Kara in her home, more times than she was willing to admit. Sometimes, the dreams were sweet, innocent vignettes of family-life that left her feeling hollow when she awoke. Other times, the dreams were hot-blooded and left her aching and reaching for Kara in the night. She hated them both because they both left her yearning for impossibilities.

“How about we start with, ‘I missed you,’” Kara whispered. “I picked up the phone to call so many times. To tell you about my day. To complain. To ask for advice.” She clenched her jaw. “But, I chickened out every time and each time I did, it got a little easier until I no longer picked up the phone.”

Cat reached up and traced Kara’s jawline, wanting to ease the tension there. “The phone works both ways. I’ve been remiss in my efforts as well.” Remiss? Hell, Cat had actively chosen not to call. Instead, she ran from her feelings and convinced herself it was better that way.

_ I missed you, too _ , she wanted to say, but bit her lip and kept her mouth shut because what would it change?

“Right. So, uh…” Kara cleared her throat. “I just wanted to see you. You know, it being Christmas and all... I can, uh, fly back tonight. If you want.”

The very idea stole her breath. The thought of Kara leaving… No.  _ Stop being such a coward _ , she scolded.  _ Tell her how you feel _ . Tears welled in Cat’s eyes but she blinked them away. Swallowing past the fear that had kept her from reaching out for years, she looked Kara in the eyes and smiled, the kind Carter had asked Santa for. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Then c’mere.” Kara pulled Cat into a hug. Cat sank into the warmth of the embrace, and held on like her life depended on it. “How many times do I have to wrap my arms around you and feel you hold on with desperation for us to realize that we belong together?”

“We — No,  _ I’ve _ been foolish. I’ll always want your arms around me.” She snuggled deeper into the hug, pressing her face into the curve of Kara’s neck, and kissed the skin there. “Stay. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever,” she murmured.

The skin was so soft.  _ Like silk _ , she thought as she nibbled her way across the cut of Kara’s jaw to her mouth. Heat exploded low in Cat’s belly as soon as their lips touched.  Their kiss was fire. Lips and tongues and teeth. Nipping and soothing. Cat moaned and shifted her weight, clenching her thighs together to ease the ache between her legs.

The only way their kiss could have been more perfect was if it had happened years ago. All the wasted time. All the kisses they could have —  _ should _ have — had. Wasted because Cat let fear control her. No longer.

An answering groan escaped Kara, a mutual cry of desperation, before she broke the kiss and stooped low. Cat only had a second to catch her breath because Kara scooped her up and carried her to the couch.

As they settled on the couch together, Cat traced her eyes over every inch of Kara’s face. She wanted to memorize this moment. A snapshot for the ages. If this was a dream…

Cat’s breath caught. Her smile faded. She looked around the room with wild eyes for signs of it being a dream. The fire burned low because it hadn’t been stoked. The presents were still wrapped. The half-eaten cookie was still there. Everything seemed real enough… If this was a dream, and she woke up, she would shatter. If this was a dream, it would be the cruelest nightmare imaginable. How could her mind betray her to such a degree?

“Cat? What’s wrong?” Kara cradled her face and forced her gaze back. “Hey, hey, hey… Look at me. I’m here.”

“I want this to be real,” she whispered. She hated how her voice broke. “So badly.”

“It is. I promise.” Kara picked up Cat’s hand and kissed each fingertip. She bit the last one, eliciting a yelp.

“You — you bit me!” Incredulity colored her tone, but joy also bubbled up. Cat couldn’t contain it. She laughed. Leaning forward, she pressed a soft kiss to Kara’s lips. “This is real. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Cat.”

 

* * *

 

Carter’s eyes sprang open. His bedroom was dark. Only his night light glowed. Something had woken him up, but he wasn’t sure what. He glanced at the Mickey Mouse alarm clock by his bed. Mickey said it was after 1 in the morning.

What woke him up? He lay still and quiet, listening. There! A noise. Santa, maybe. Eyes wide, he slid silently from his bed. His Christmas Mickey sheets rustled with his movements. “Shh,” he told them, placing a finger over his lips.

Tip-toeing to the door, he eased it open as quietly as he could, just enough so he could slip through. It creaked a little bit, and he rolled his eyes. It needed oil like the Tin Man. Why were noises so much louder when he was trying to be sneaky?

He slipped through the small opening, and pressed his back against the wall of the hallway. Whew. His mom’s door was shut. His socks muffled his steps as he slid and shimmied along the wall until he reached the end.

The living room was dark, but the Christmas lights were still on. They twinkled with all of his favorite colors. Underneath the tree were presents. Carter’s eyes widened. That meant Santa came!

Walking further into the room, no longer concerned about his mom seeing or hearing him, he looked for any signs that Santa had brought the gift he asked for, but didn’t see any.

His heart felt funny. He rubbed his chest and wondered if this was what his mom meant by a heart sinking in disappointment. It felt awful. If his heart sank, he hoped it didn’t drown.

Carter shuffled closer to his mom’s fancy chair. Movement on the couch startled him. Squinting, he looked closer. The couch looked awfully lumpy. Was his mom sleeping on it?

The lump moved and Carter jumped back, clapping his hands over his mouth so he didn’t scream. There were two lumps! His mom was definitely one. Who was the other one?

Back in stealth mode, he crawled as close to the couch as possible and peeked over the side. He squealed. Even though the room was dark, he saw his mom sleeping on top of Kara! She was even smiling in her sleep! Kara was actually here. Santa brought her! Carter couldn’t contain himself and bounced up and down on his toes.

“Thank you, Santa,” he whispered.

Giggling, he scampered back down the hallway and dove headfirst into bed. He pulled the covers up to his chin, ready to sleep, but he was too excited. Instead, he imagined running out there in the morning, launching himself into Kara’s arms, hugging his mom, and having the best Christmas ever. His mom would smile and her eyes would sparkle like they used to.

Carter suddenly sat up and gasped. He needed to write a Thank You note to Santa!


End file.
